


The Dress

by orphan_account



Category: Sing (2016)
Genre: Multi, fingers pricked by all the needling I did with phrasing this thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:32:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9679052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The dress was beyond lovely.It was the kind of stunning that graced the bodies of Paris models as they marched up and down the runway, camera flashes bouncing off of slender necks as they held their heads high. It had that crisp a-line cut that looked as though it was carefully planned to be careless. Beauty was in every stitch. It was in the winter midnight blue of the background. It was in the brilliantly orange tole flowers that ran. It was in the minute ripple just around the shoulders.It was glorious.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For ConverseKitten, who requested bigender Barry coming out to Pete. I hope I got it right <3

       The dress was beyond lovely.

       It was the kind of stunning that graced the bodies of Paris models as they marched up and down the runway, camera flashes bouncing off of slender necks as they held their heads high. It had that crisp a-line cut that looked as though it was carefully planned to be careless. Beauty was in every stitch. It was in the winter midnight blue of the background. It was in the brilliantly orange tole flowers that ran. It was in the minute ripple just around the shoulders.

       It was glorious.

       Barry stood there, admiring the way the display model stood frozen in vogue with its pristine plastic skin glowing under the florescent lights of the store. Around the pedestal upon which it stood hung dozens of copies of the dress like diligent worshipers. Little colored tags stood like clan flags above each hanger, separating them all according to size.

      Taking a deep breath, Barry proceeded to flip through.

       Extra-Small

       Small

       Medium

       Large

       Wow… not even an extra-large this time.

       He sighed and bit down on his tongue.  Without a word, he fixed the hanging dresses to make it look as if they had never been touched.

       “Not in your size?”

       Barry jumped, whipping around to see a smirking Pete leaning against the handle of the cart. The chuckle in the back of the man’s throat was grating.

       “Aw come on now, what’s this face for?”

       “’S for nothing,” muttered Barry, “Come on, we’ve got to pick up slacks for-”

       Pete threw out an arm to catch him across the chest, “Hey now-”

       “Pete-”

       “Don’t ‘Pete’ me, what’s gotten in that head of yours?”

       “Can’t a man putz about while he waits for his mate to finish up in the loo? Christ…” Barry ran a hand down his face, “Now, are we going to get those pants or what?”

       “Alright, but-”

       “I mean, if you want to be the kind of bloke that prances around with a gaping hole right on his-”

       “Alright! I said alright!”

       The quiet that Pete settled into sent prickles down Barry’s spine. He found himself chewing on his cheek again as he sat on the floor and flipped through pile after pile of beige pants. He took a moment to breathe, refolding the set of trousers he had accidentally shaken open.  Pete shuffled through the denim above him. It took everything Barry had not to say something about how close he was standing, how his foot kept hitting the pile of slacks, how his god damn breathing was so loud.

       “Hey ah…Barry?”

       Barry flicked his gaze up, for an instance, but nothing more. It was enough to see Pete had abandoned the search and was instead looking at him.

       “…You’re really upset, aren’t you.”

       Barry’s mouth twitched as another set of pants accidentally unfolded, “You’re making a bigger deal out of this than I am, Pete. Just find your damn pants.”

       “No, come on now-”

       “Alright,” It came out as a hiss that startled even Barry as he whipped around to stare Pete in the face, “Alright, maybe I am. Maybe I like to wear something a bit flouncy every now and again. Maybe I like wearing pearls ‘n shit. Do you not think,” he gestured to himself, the trouser leg now embedded in his fist, “a big bloke like me isn’t aware they’re gonna have a hard time? Not even getting people to be okay with that but just finding something that bleeding fits and looks nice? And then you go and start saying shit-”

       “I didn’t-!”

       “You did. You did and don’t fucking pretend.”

       “Nah I-!”

       “’Doesn’t come in your size’ yes I know because nothing does. Now are you going to tell me the colour wouldn’t have looked nice either or are you going to shut up?”

       Even from the floor, Barry could hear the audible click of Pete’s mouth snapping shut. It stayed shut too, from the checkout lane to the long drive home. Everything, even the air conditioning of the car, seemed so loud. It was as if all other noises were trying to fill the space made by the lack of conversation. Barry kept tightening his grip on the steering wheel, feeling his fingers twitch and grip the stitching. Through his mind ran fifty million different things that could not be said with words. How was he supposed to explain this? How was he supposed to get Pete to understand?

       When they got home, Barry made a beeline for the back yard. Johnny played behind him as he viciously pulled out the grass that had started to grow beneath the forsythia. Pete was talking to Stan no doubt, throwing a fit saying ‘I swear, I don’t know why he gets like this’ and ‘I don’t understand him, I really don’t’. Barry knew all the lines; he had heard them a thousand times before from a thousand different people. He was prepared to suffer through them again when the sky turned to purple and dinner was on the table, but nothing happened.

       And nothing continued to happen.

       For a solid week.

       It was frightening, honestly. Barry felt as though he was perpetually sitting on the edge of his seat just waiting to hear the words, ‘we need to talk,’ but they never came. Slowly, Stan’s gentle attitude came across as pandering. Quietly, Pete’s general bounciness turned into a headache. They crept under his skin and festered there. If he was going to get a lecture they might as well start now because god damn it this was ten thousand times worse.

       When his name was called from the kitchen late Friday evening, he was practically vibrating. Pete stood there, shuffling his feet. Stan smiled lazily, looking between the two before finally nudging Pete.

       “Ah, right,” he coughed, “Right. This is for you.”

       Barry caught the package that was thrown at him, raising an eyebrow as he did so. He stared at Pete and quietly flipped the package in his hands. The silence stretched.

       Stan sighed, “Christ mate, would you just open it?”

       “After a week of nothing you chuck this at my face and-?”

       “It’s-!” Pete gestured, “Fuck all I’m trying to fix things, alright?”

       “Fix what.”

       “Fix me being an arsehole! For crying out loud just open the damn thing!”

       Barry scoffed, giving a final glare before tearing into the package. With little interest, he began picking at the corners and slowly pealing back the grey postal wrapping. It was going to be something stupid, some chincy form of an apology instead of actually saying the words ‘I’m sorry’. He knew it. This was always how Pete tried to patch things up. No matter how many times Stan and Barry had tried to explain to him it didn’t work, this was always his go to.

       At the flash of blue, Barry froze.

       No way.

       He tore through with vicious eagerness now. There was no way in hell- there was no way-

       It was the dress, the midnight blue dress with the orange flowers. It hung from his hands like solid water. It slipped into the spaces between his fingers light as vapor and twice as glossy. It was there.

       It was his.

       The gentle clearing of Stan’s throat snapped his focus back on the two men standing before him. He watched as Pete received a nudge again, invoking stutters and wringing hands.

       “Stan- Stan showed me your stash,” he muttered, focused on how his one thumb scratched at the knuckle of another and refusing to meet Barry’s gaze, “Explained a bit. I- well the catalog was on the table and so I checked the numbers- I’m not stupid, I know how dresses work. I checked the numbers and- and you should probably still try it because I know how dresses work, in theory, I mean. Sizing is stupid and- well, sizing is always stupid and-”

       “I can,” Barry could actually feel his hands shaking, “I mean, I will, I- give me a second.”

       He rushed from the kitchen, tucking himself into the bathroom and quickly shucking his shirt and pants. As he pulled the dress over his head, his skin prickled at the touch of the cool fabric. It fell like- like- there were no words. The moment was golden.

       Standing there, looking at himself in the mirror, he felt golden.

       Quietly, Barry made his way back to the kitchen. Stan smiled at him, and he held his breath as Pete silently stared him up and down.

       For a second, Barry’s heart stopped as Pete’s mouth turned down. He prepared himself for the words he knew would come as soon as Pete nudged Stan and gestured at the dress.

       “You’re right, it was a good thing we got the extra tall.”

       Barry blinked.

       “Told ya,” Stan chuckled, “He’s taller than the average lady. Needs a tall dress.”

       “Can dresses be called tall?”

       “Says so on the sizing chart, din’t?”

       “True, true,” Pete muttered before looking back up at Barry with a small smile, “What do you think?”

       Barry swallowed, “It’s…lovely.”

       Stan laughed and Pete’s grin grew. In an instant, Barry was swaddled by affection and two strong sets of arms. In the kitchen there, on that late Friday evening, he couldn’t think of another time in his life where he had ever felt so understood, so loved, as he did in that moment.

       He laughed so hard he cried.

       In fact, they all did.   


End file.
